


Close

by RainbowCosmos



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Blowjobs, Comfort No Hurt, First Time, Getting Together, Literally the sappiest most romantic sex I've ever written, M/M, Sex Positive Ace Zolf, Spoilers for Episode 128
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23391982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowCosmos/pseuds/RainbowCosmos
Summary: It’s been months since Wilde has been able to finish.Approaching eighteen months since he’s taken anyone home, and nearly three since his hand just stopped cutting it.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 9
Kudos: 113





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**Author's Note:**

> I'm a simple writer, I see an emotional situation in canon and I go "oh, they are going to have so much sex about this"

It’s been months since Wilde has been able to finish.

Approaching eighteen months since he’s taken anyone home, and nearly three since his hand just stopped cutting it. 

He hasn’t been able to trust anyone enough for a one night stand since he first set sail for Japan with a reluctant Zolf in tow. His only trusted colleagues these days are the (happily married) chef at their inn, and Zolf himself. And yeah, Zolf stopped being so reluctant to fight beside Wilde once the shit started hitting the fan. And yeah, Zolf seems to actually  _ enjoy _ his company now, shooting him smiles to the best of his abilities to try and bait Wilde into returning them. And yeah,  _ Zolf is looking pretty damn good right about now _ .

But Wilde can’t jeopardise the trust and the partnership and the… friendship that they’ve spent so long building while the world goes to hell around them.

It doesn’t matter that Zolf smiles at him now whenever Wilde finds it in himself to flirt, even if he probably only does so because he’s glad to see a bit of the Old Wilde peeking through. And that really doesn’t make it any better, it just makes Wilde’s heart skip a beat when he thinks about how Zolf cares for his well being.

Because yes, in a perfect world, maybe Wilde would want something  _ more _ than a one-off fling with Zolf, even if that isn’t something he’s allowed himself to want from anyone in  _ years. _ And that was before the entire world ended. It’s just not possible now.

If he lets himself fall for Zolf, he’ll want to keep him locked up forever, far from the danger, where nothing bad could ever happen to him.

Wilde paces down the hallway and runs a hand through his thick hair with a sigh. He’s fairly certain he’s already fallen for Zolf. Just a little. Perhaps. He’s been distancing himself from him for a while now, and it doesn’t take a person as charismatic as he is to realise that Zolf is starting to get suspicious. These aren’t times in which you can trust a sudden change of character.

He knows that’s why Zolf has called him for a private meeting in his room, he knows they’re going to go through the whole system of checks that the two of them had perfected much too long ago.

He enters Zolf’s room without knocking to find the dwarf sitting at the small desk in his room, and Zolf rearranges a pile of parchment before he acknowledges him.

“Well,” Zolf speaks first. “Go ahead.”

“Bertie has a tattoo of a chicken on his left hip.” Wilde says. It’s one of the many things they’ve come to accept as proof from each other. “I know this because I seduced him within five minutes of meeting him, and you know this because Bertie has a habit of either wearing all of his armour, or nothing at all.”

Zolf nods like he’s pleased with that and stands from his desk. He gives a small gesture of his hand and Wilde knows immediately what he expects of him. He needs to check for the blue veins.

Wilde unbuttons his shirt and licks his lips as he lets it fall to the floor. He should not be this turned on by this, by something they’ve done a hundred times, but he can feel Zolf's eyes like a caress over his chest and god dammit he has really needed to be touched like that.

He hesitates on his pants and Zolf notices.

“Wilde, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, but he bites his lip and shucks the rest of his clothes anyway. And yes, he’s half hard, standing awkwardly in front of Zolf as his friend’s eyes rake analytically over every inch of him.

For once in his life, Oscar has no clue what to do with his hands.

“It’s just,” Wilde is horrified to find himself talking. He knows that joking about this will be painfully awkward and that saying something is  _ not _ a good move right now, and he  _ definitely _ doesn’t want to be saying this but, “It’s been a while.”

He can’t meet Zolf’s eyes, can’t look up from the floor, but he knows Zolf has completed his check and is staring at him for a different reason now.

“Is that why you’ve been so skittish lately?” Zolf sounds almost relieved.

Wilde just shrugs a bare shoulder.

“Oh thank god,” Zolf breathes a sigh that borders on a laugh. “I thought something was actually wrong.”

Wilde fixes him with a half-hearted flirty smile, feeling it tug uncomfortably at the scar tissue on his cheek.

“Well, I’d argue that something is very wrong if I’m not seeing any action.”

Zolf huffs another laugh under his breath and steps up to stand close to him.

“You know I could help you with that, if you wanted?”

And Wilde curses Zolf and his therapy, his improved emotional health, his ability to actually  _ come right out and say what he means all the damn time. _ Instead of just ignoring his problems like the rest of the world does.

But also an imperceptible shiver runs through his whole body at the invitation and he can feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily against his thigh. He sees Zolf’s eyes flit towards the movement before they snap back up to his face, and Wilde repositions so his hands vaguely cover himself.

“I didn’t think that you… did things like this.” Wilde hates how stilted he sounds as he tries to find the right words. It had come out in their long time working together that Zolf was asexual; it was never a secret he guarded particularly closely.

“I don't like people touching me, but I'm very happy to be on the… giving side.” Zolf sounds just as awkward as he tries to juggle his euphemism and it relaxes Wilde just a little. Even if the actual content of his words threatens another shiver down Oscar’s spine.

"Can I at least put my clothes on before we have this conversation?" It’s a bit of a joke, but Wilde feels vulnerable enough baring his feelings without being naked simultaneously.

Zolf puts a broad hand on Wilde’s bare arm, “Is that really what you want?”

Wilde makes a noise in the back of his throat, a confused modulation of a frustrated groan.

“No, no it’s not what I want.” He’s exasperated with himself, but he refuses to take it out on Zolf. “But it’s what I  _ should _ want, because we can’t be  _ doing _ this, this isn’t something that can be  _ done _ right now.”

Zolf doesn’t take his eyes off Wilde, but he removes his hand and sits on his own bed, gesturing for Wilde to join him. Oscar goes easily and grabs the throw blanket from the foot of the bed, draping it over his lap to pretend he still has some modesty left. He’s looking sideways at Zolf to avoid the full force of his stare.

“Relationships are hard right now.” Zolf says, voice steady, and his hand lays itself over Wilde’s on the bed. “But so is being alone.”

Wilde turns his hand over and allows Zolf to lace their fingers together.

Zolf continues, “at least it is for me.”

Wilde looks at him for real now, takes in the flush on Zolf's cheeks. He might have gotten better at this whole talking thing, but it's obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that he wants so badly to sink back into being a curmudgeonly old sailor who keeps to himself.

“You’d want that?” Wilde says. “A relationship, with me?”

Zolf shifts up onto his knees so he’s tall enough to bring their lips together, softly, chastely. 

“Yeah,” Zolf speaks against Wilde’s lips, and it takes all of Oscar’s restraint to not dive back in and interrupt him. Zolf runs a hand through Wilde’s hair and presses their foreheads together. “I would.”

Wilde finally allows himself to fold to his cravings and grabs Zolf’s shirt collar in both hands, tugging him back for another kiss. They’re less soft, less chaste this time, lingering on each other until Wilde finally parts his lips around a breathless sigh and Zolf angles himself closer to run his tongue along those plush lips.

It’s a sweet thing, even with the mounting need rising between them.

When Wilde pulls back for air, he’s already panting. Zolf is flushed and his eyes are glazed over as they scan every inch of Wilde’s face just as they did his entire body moments ago. And then he ducks down to start kissing Wilde's neck, and the scratch of his beard feels almost as good as the softness of his lips and the occasional drag of his dull teeth over tender skin.

Zolf pulls back and Wilde has to stifle a complaint.

“Do you want this?” 

Wilde looks him in the eyes and nods. 

Zolf lays him back over the bedspread. Soft enough for what the inn had on hand, plush against Wilde’s bare back. Zolf straddles his lap and affectionately cups Wilde’s cheek in one hand. 

And for a long moment, they just stare at each other. Oscar laid back on Zolf’s sheets, hair pooling around him like a dark, curling halo, cheek warm where it sits nestled under the slight callouses of Zolf’s hand. Zolf hovers over him, bright blue eyes struggling to stay focussed as they skim over every tiny dip and bump of Wilde’s face, constantly drawn back to the sparkling gaze of Oscar’s eyes.

Zolf is exceedingly slow when he kisses him this time. It’s slow, but it’s deep, and he massages the length of Wilde’s tongue with his own, caressing every inch of Oscar's mouth that it can reach, like he’s mapping him out. And his free hand begins to pet over the smooth skin of Oscar’s chest.

Wilde takes a long moment to realise that he’s moaning already.

Every little exhale is an audible whine or murmur and Zolf seems to be lapping up every single one.

Zolf pulls back and nudges his nose against Wilde’s affectionately. Wilde takes this opportunity to catch his breath and nudges Zolf back. He can feel himself blushing harshly as they continue to nuzzle at each other, panting into the minimal space between them. This is  _ much _ more intimate than anything Wilde is used to. He can feel a warmth in his gut that has nothing to do with arousal.

Zolf gives him a kiss on the cheek that parts with a barely audible smack and Wilde can't help the smile that spreads over his features.

And then he’s back to kissing his way down Wilde’s neck, and this doesn’t make it any easier for Oscar to keep his noises to himself. When Zolf reaches his chest and kisses softly at a nipple, Wilde needs to bring a hand up to cover his mouth.

But Zolf grabs the hand and laces their fingers together, pulling it away and pressing it down into the bedsheet beside them.

“Let me hear you.”

And then his lips part and the flat of his tongue, hot and soft, runs over Wilde’s nipple, and  _ fuck. _

A spark runs all the way up and then back down Wilde’s spine, heating up his belly, and Wilde can feel himself hardening fully against his own stomach. Zolf flicks gently at Wilde’s other nipple with the pad of his thumb, and Oscar’s back bows clear off the bed.

And then Zolf climbs down his body, nudging Wilde’s legs apart so that he can sit between them. He runs a rough hand over the smooth skin of Wilde's upper thigh, fingering the fabric of the throw blanket that is now so hiked up it is barely covering him, and is tenting dramatically where it does cover.

"Is this ok?" Zolf sounds gruff and breathless already.

"Please, Zolf" Is what Oscar manages, it's been too damn long, and they're so close, and he really just needs Zolf to touch him, and-

And then the hand slides up under the blanket and grabs at his cock.

And then Wilde's hips buck clear off the bed and the blanket falls the rest of the way off.

And then he gets a front row seat to Zolf's hand wrapped all the way around him, tugging at him absolutely  _ perfectly. _

Wilde had almost expected teasing, he was used to teasing, used to this whole  _ thing _ being a song and dance between two people who have reputations to protect.

But Zolf sees him. Zolf sees the tears beading in his eyes, perhaps relief, frustration, or pleasure; even Wilde isn’t sure. Zolf knows that Wilde needs this, and that he needs it now.

And then Zolf’s mouth is on him and Wilde knows, in the pit of his stomach, that this is going to be over  _ so  _ soon. And  _ fuck _ Oscar could cry from relief at that alone. It's been so long since he's felt his pleasure actually mount instead of just plateau and stagnate until stroking himself just started to hurt.

But Zolf's lips are sweet and wet and wrapped around him, taking in as much as he can and drooling down onto the rest of the length where his hand pumps at a steady pace

"Zolf," Oscar mumbles, and it's only when he tries to talk that he realises he's been moaning and babbling the whole time. "I'm not going to last"

Zolf doesn't pull off him, and Oscars thanks the gods for that small mercy, but his eyes raise to meet Wilde's and he doubles his efforts, picking up the pace and sucking harder around the length in his mouth.

Oscar can feel the edge coming, he's so close, he's closer than he's been in so long, it feels so good and he barely notices the tears tracking their way down his cheeks over the building noises pushing themselves from his throat, rising higher and louder until-

Wilde screams when he cums.

His entire back arcs, his hips twitch uselessly, his head is tossed back into Zolf's pillows, surrounding him with the scent of the dwarf stationed between his legs with the magical mouth and  _ fuck. _

It feels like it goes on forever, like Wilde will not ever come down from this peak. And he's ready to worship Zolf as a god for bringing him to this euphoria, when the muscles in his body slowly start to relax. The waves washing over him recede into aftershocks that run tremors up his entire body.

Zolf pulls off him, and Oscars distantly realises he can see Zolf swallow, and that gets another helpless moan from him as Zolf settles up beside him.

Oscar is on his back and panting, eyes shut, cheeks damp and flushed, every nerve in his body singing its delight for the wonderful man lying next to him.

Zolf helps him under the covers and wraps a thick arm around Oscars middle. Wilde winds his own arms around Zolf's neck and hugs him close, feeling Zolf sap the warmth of his post-orgasmic body into his own. Wilde is entirely ok with this, he'd give Zolf anything he asked for in this moment.

And so Wilde kisses him, softly, slowly, like an unspoken promise.

**Author's Note:**

> [sees wilde fuckin Struggling] this man needs to get his fucking ass ate :(


End file.
